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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586835">everyone grieves differently</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalcrossings/pseuds/animalcrossings'>animalcrossings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, after sabrina's death, ambrose centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:29:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalcrossings/pseuds/animalcrossings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sabrina's passing, everyone must learn how to grieve properly and live on without her. But Ambrose can't seem to find a way to healthily cope. So, Aunt Hilda buys him a journal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prudence Night/Ambrose Spellman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>everyone grieves differently</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>mainly first person POV as ambrose writes things out in his journal!</p>
<p>things to note:<br/>strikethrough means he's crossed it out<br/>words in brackets [like this] are 3rd person POV, not what he's writing</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life after Sabrina’s passing wasn’t the same. It could never be the same again. They’d saved the word — Sabrina — had saved the world, but at the cost of sacrificing herself.  </p>
<p>Everyone handles grief differently. </p>
<p>Roz gets a therapist and signs up for a grief group. During the day, she implements programs at Baxter High in Sabrina’s memory. In the afternoon, she works through her feelings and learns how to carry on. </p>
<p>Harvey plunges himself into drawing, what was once a hobby now becomes his way of communication. He’s not the best with words, but expresses it all through pencil and brush strokes. Roz gives him tips from her therapist.</p>
<p>Theo seeks comfort from his boyfriend, Robin. Though the hobgoblin didn’t know her for as long as Theo did, he’s struck by the loss as well. The two spend many nights, up late, talking and sharing their emotions.</p>
<p>Zelda devotes all of her time to the coven. She can’t handle being at the mortuary anymore, Sabrina’s presence still haunting the place. She spends every waking second working as a distraction, with Vinegar Tom curled up at her feet. </p>
<p>Hilda begins to bake. Heaps of sweets and baked goods clutter the kitchen counters. She brings extra to her sister on those long nights at the academy; Zelda swears she’s fine, but Hilda knows she isn’t. </p>
<p>And Nick, devoured by anguish, couldn’t handle a world without Sabrina; he drowned himself in the Sea of Sorrows and ensured himself a fate alongside her in the afterlife.</p>
<p>But Ambrose?<br/>
Ambrose doesn’t know how to cope, how to properly grieve. He shuts himself up in the attic, or down in the embalming room, and doesn’t speak to anyone for a while. The Aunties notice and they worry, they try to reach out, but he refuses to let up. “Maybe he’s not ready to open up yet,” Hilda says to Zelda, who dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “We’re his family,” she chides. “And we lost Sabrina too. He has to talk to us eventually.”</p>
<p>Despite her sister’s words, Hilda knows he won’t give in so easily. He needs time to recover, but he doesn’t know how. So, she figures she should help him out a bit. On the way out from Dr. Cee’s bookstore, she pockets an empty journal.  It’s plain, bound in leather, and filled with lined paper. She prayed to Hecate that Ambrose would like it. </p>
<p>Back at the mortuary, Hilda ascended up to the attic, knocking before walking in. Ambrose was hunched over in his bed, looking at his sheets with a blank stare. Her heart sank as she saw the many uneaten plates of food she’d left for him prior, and felt a pang of pity at the dark circles beneath his eyes. “I, um, I’m so sorry to bother you dear,” she began nervously, pulling the book out of her pocket. </p>
<p>“I saw this journal at Dr. Cee’s and I know you’re quite fond of poetry and literature, so I thought I’d snag it for you. I know things have been hard after-” Her breath caught in her throat and she forced herself to continue. “Sabrina’s death… And I was thinking maybe you could try writing in it, y’know, as a way to let your feelings out, eh?” There was no reply.</p>
<p>Disheartened, she set the journal down on his desk. “Well, I hope you consider giving it a try. And, um, we all love you, Ambrose.” Hilda smiled, walking away slowly. “We’re here with open ears whenever you’re ready to talk.” And with that, he was sitting alone in his room once more. </p>
<p>The leather book sat alone too, for days, collecting dust.<br/>
He picked up a pen.<br/>
Flipped the book open.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>i<br/>
Aunt Hilda told me I should write out my feelings. <strike>Sounds stupid and cheesy.</strike></p>
<p>[He closes the book in exasperation. It was a stupid idea anyway.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>ii<br/>
It’s a new day and I guess I’ll try again. Anything beats staring at my wall for hours. <strike>It might take me a long time to find the right words.</strike> </p>
<p>[He crosses out that last part — too corny.] </p>
<p> </p>
<p>iii<br/>
It’s been three weeks since Sabrina’s passing. That feels weird to write. I used to like writing. Now, with this journal, it seems like a chore. </p>
<p>[He had to stop himself before he started crying.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>iv<br/>
When Hilda came to bring me some of her latest treats, she’d seen the journal on my bed. She asked if I’d written in it. Who would’ve thought my smallest nod would make that woman smile so much. Anyways, I figured my current entries don’t really count as “writing,” so I guess I’ll make an effort to actually start using this journal. For Aunt Hilda’s sake. </p>
<p>[He laid down and put his head in his hands.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>v<br/>
She baked blueberry muffins today, left on my desk likely long before I woke up. They were pretty good. <strike>Once I find the strength to speak maybe I’ll tell her.</strike> </p>
<p>[He taps the pen against his chin and thinks for a moment.]</p>
<p>I heard voices downstairs earlier. I think maybe the Aunties had guests over. <strike>Part of me wanted to go talk to them.</strike> Maybe it was Dr. Cee coming to taste Hilda’s baked goods. Or Sabrinas friends stopping to pay respects to her grave. </p>
<p>[Suddenly he’s gazing out the window, across the lawn, toward the cemetery. There’s a distant look in his eyes.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>vi<br/>
I left my room for the first time in a while. Went to visit her final resting place, in the backyard. Spellman and Morningstar side by side. I told her this would happen, that two Sabrinas couldn’t exist. <strike>Look what happened to them both.</strike> </p>
<p>I can almost hear her scolding me from the afterlife, telling me both Sabrinas sacrificed themselves to the stopping of the eldritch terrors nobly, rather than being killed or merged. I cant help feel like this is all my fault. Is this how Sabrina felt?</p>
<p>[Fingers curled in a fist, he slams them down on the desk (in anger? mourning? He doesn’t know.)]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>vii<br/>
Someone left a vase of flowers by my bedside. I’m assuming it was Hilda. They’re nice, brighten up the room a bit. </p>
<p>I went downstairs today. Aunt Zee wasn’t home, but Hilda and Dr. Cee were. They seemed surprised to see me. <strike>I was sort of surprised to see me there too.</strike> </p>
<p>I tried lots of her baked goods and they watched me eagerly, as though waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t find the words. Aunt Hilda said it was okay, that I didn’t need to say anything to let her know I enjoyed them, but I still felt bad. Saying anything would end up as a cry for help. </p>
<p>[He pauses, having lost his train of thought.]</p>
<p>I hope she leaves me flowers again soon. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>viii<br/>
Roz came by earlier. They’re holding a memorial service at Baxter and she wanted us to come. Aunt Zee got misty eyed at the suggestion and Hilda had to politely decline. Then she came to talk to me. </p>
<p>With her seer powers, when she placed a hand on my wrist, she saw everything I’d been feeling. <strike>I wonder if she saw how the image of Sabrina’s dead body constantly replays in my mind.</strike> She told me she’s been going to therapy, that it might help me work out how I’m feeling. Zelda scoffed that I can’t talk to anyone else, professional or not, until I talk to my family first. </p>
<p>I think I’m hurting her by accident. I wish I could say something. But any time I think about speaking about what happened, bile rises in my throat and I feel sick. Death has never made me squeamish before, but this time it’s different. <strike>It’s not death that makes me sick, it’s the feeling of loneliness and the loss we’ve experienced.</strike> </p>
<p>[A bought of nausea prevents him from writing any further.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>ix<br/>
Today there were blue flowers sitting next to the red ones from before. They’re in a tall, opaque vase. It almost made me smile, seeing the two next to eachother. Aunt Hilda came in and said it’s about time I threw the red ones out; their color has faded and the petals are drooping. </p>
<p>But I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. Someone else had been changing their water, making sure they lived as long as possible. I don’t know who. It would feel wrong to just toss them, discard someone else’s work. <strike>I can’t take care of myself, let alone some flowers.</strike> </p>
<p>I slept in quite late this morning. Hilda told me that Prudence had come to see me. <strike>My mind wandered to what we used to be.</strike> I almost wished I was awake to say hello. <strike>It’s for the better that I wasn’t.</strike> Last we spoke was at Sabrina’s funeral. I remember saving Prudence from the void. The way she’d grabbed onto me so tight. <strike>What I’d give to be held like that again.</strike> </p>
<p>[He can feel her phantom touch and wants to scream.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>x<br/>
Didn’t sleep at all last night. Every time I’d close my eyes, Father Blackwood would be there, holding Sabrina’s corpse. <strike>It’s all my fault.</strike> Those nightmares plague me every day. It’s one of the reasons I’m always so tired. </p>
<p>Sometimes it’s Blackwood slaughtering Prudence. I try to run to her but I can never make it in time. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Other days it’s the different eldritch terrors, swallowing Greendale or various loved-ones whole. <strike>Sometimes I wish they’d taken me so I wouldn’t be feeling this pain.</strike> </p>
<p>I went down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab something to eat. Hilda was awake too, insomniac and anxious tendencies driving her to bake something to relieve them. She’d offered me a cup of tea and some macadamia nut cookies, which I gladly accepted. </p>
<p>Then she began to ramble, talking about how things had been at Dr. Cee’s, all the new recipes she was desperate to try. I sat and listened. To be honest, it was nice. I think we’re handling this opposite ways of each other. She’s talking too much and I can’t talk at all. </p>
<p>[He sat back and thought about what he’d just written.]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>xi<br/>
It’s been two months since Sabrina’s passing. We held a family dinner. It was mostly quiet, but not an uncomfortable silence. Despite Aunt Hilda’s attempts to lighten up the mood, the somber tone in the air stayed. I couldn’t blame her for trying. </p>
<p>When I went back up to my room, Prudence was there, sitting on my bed. She didn’t say anything, just waited as I sat down beside her. Then she reached out for my hand and intertwined our fingers. <strike>I silently hoped she would never let go.</strike> </p>
<p>While we sat there I rested my head on her shoulder and slowly drifted off to sleep. The best sleep I’d had in weeks, actually. Her presence seemed to scare my nightmares away. <strike>I dreamt about her instead.</strike> </p>
<p>She was gone by the time I woke up. The red flowers had been replaced by a bunch of white ones.<br/>
[He frowned slightly.] </p>
<p>I wish Prudence was still here. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>xii<br/>
I went to visit the Academy today. They put a big statue of Sabrina next to the one of Hecate. I uttered a silent prayer in my head to our Dark Mother that Sabrina was okay. That’s when I ran into Aunt Zee, who was very shocked to see me. She joined me in praying. </p>
<p>I walked around the Academy for a bit, waved hello to some people. They were all looking at me with pity, some offering their apologies and condolences. It was suffocating. <strike>I wished I hadn’t gone.</strike> The most I could do was nod in appreciation. Aunt Zee said it was nice to see me out of the house. </p>
<p>Prudence and Agatha were there, speaking in hushed voices in the library. They stood as soon as they saw me, Agatha pulling me in for a hug and murmuring sympathies in my ear. It took everything I had in me not to break down right then and there. </p>
<p>[He wrapped his arms around himself to try and recreate the feeling.]</p>
<p> I wanted so desperately to thank Agatha, but no words would come out. Prudence spoke for me, and Agatha said she understood. <strike>Didn’t stop my guilt.</strike> Prudence came home with me, walking side by side up the pathway to the house. She took me up to my room and helped me get changed. </p>
<p>Most people would’ve found that infantilizing, like she thought I couldn’t do it myself. I was just grateful she cared enough to help me out. <strike>I hadn’t changed my clothes in weeks, so I earnestly did appreciate it.</strike> </p>
<p>[He felt the softness of the clean clothes on his body and sighed.]

</p>
<p>xiii<br/>
Prudence stayed with me the whole night. She cradled me when I jolted awake from nightmares, panting and chest heaving. Her voice, much softer than usual, lulled me back to sleep. When I got up, the blue flowers had been taken from their vase. <strike>Prudence and the flowers seem to be the only things I look forward to.</strike> </p>
<p>I had begun to wonder where she’d gone until she teleported into the attic, a bundle of yellow flowers in hand. She’d placed them in the vase, then turned and smiled at me. </p>
<p>[He wanted to ask her if she’d been leaving them all this time, but when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.]</p>
<p>She had come and sat down beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.<br/>
“What is it, Ambrose?” She’d murmured. </p>
<p>[He had shook his head, as an indicator he couldn’t talk.]</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be afraid around me.” She’d said, grabbing my hand gingerly. </p>
<p>[“How do you do it.” He’d said, voice wobbly as though he was learning how to speak for the first time.]</p>
<p>Prudence seemed surprised to hear me speak. I couldn’t believe it either. But there was no turning back now. </p>
<p>“How do I do what?” She replied, head tilted and looking at me patiently. </p>
<p>[“How do you... pretend you’re okay?” He coughed, throat feeling dry, desperately reaching for the glass of water on his desk.]</p>
<p>She handed me the glass and said, “I don’t understand.</p>
<p>[The weight of the question he was trying to ask became to much for him, and suddenly tears were streaming down his cheeks and his words came in choked out sobs. “Even after they’re gone,” he cried, voice hoarse. “How do you manage to be okay?”]</p>
<p>She gave me a look of sympathy, and for a moment I was afraid I’d pushed too far. I could see in the way her eyes became glossy with tears. Prudence had never been vulnerable like this before. “You’re grieving, Ambrose, and that’s okay.” <strike>It wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay.</strike> </p>
<p>[He shook his head, blinded by sorrow and unwilling to listen.]</p>
<p>She pulled me in close, wiping away my tears and stroking her thumb in circles on my cheek. “I know how you feel, Ambrose. After Dorcas died, I was scared. I wasn’t sure what to do without her, how I could stand to live when every single thing reminded me of her.” Prudence said to me. That was exactly how I felt. </p>
<p>“But you have to let yourself grieve, Ambrose. That means accepting she’s really gone.”</p>
<p>[There was a sharp intake of a shuddering breath from him.]</p>
<p>“It hurts, and you don’t want to, but you must.”<br/>
In my mind, I was transported back to that day I watched Prudence die in my arms, when I told her I couldn’t leave her and she said I must. </p>
<p>[He nodded slowly, sniffling. “Okay.”]</p>
<p>She smiled visibly at that, drawing my hand up to my chest. “Just because you admit she’s gone doesn’t mean you have to let go. Cause she’ll always be in here,” she said, pressing my palm to my heart. “And up here,” Prudence tapped my forehead, making me laugh softly. </p>
<p>“Sabrina will live on through our memories and stories, and accepting that she’s passed on won’t make her disappear. I promise.” </p>
<p>[Her words really touched him, and for the first time in months, he felt himself take a deep breath and let it all out.]</p>
<p>I told her I appreciated her kindness, and she took my by the hand. “I have something I want to show you,” she’d said. </p>
<p>Prudence took me outside, to the graveyard, and all the alarms went off in my brain, begging her to stop. But they all dissipated the moment we arrived at Sabrina’s grave. Many flowers in all different colors, including the red and blue ones that had been in my room, lay atop the soil.</p>
<p>[“Prue-“ his words had caught in his throat; he looked at her with watery eyes and a wide smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”]</p>
<p>She’d planted a kiss on my cheek and dipped her head, walking over to Dorcas’s grave that was adorned with a similar arrangement. I sat down and told Sabrina everything. I couldn’t help myself from crying again, but this time I was okay with it. I welcomed the tears. And I knew that only a few feet away from me, Prudence was doing the same thing, whispering sweet notions to her sister. </p>
<p>When we went back inside, I lingered downstairs. The Aunties were there, and I suggested they go out to visit Sabrina’s grave. </p>
<p>[“It’s therapeutic,” he’d grinned, and even Zelda couldn’t scold him. She was just happy to see him laughing again.]</p>
<p>When Prudence and I slept that night, we exchanged stories about Brina and Dorcas. We cried quite a lot; it was amazing to see how open she was with me. I told her how good it felt to let everything out, how glad I was to have her by my side. </p>
<p>[Then he kissed her. Salty from tears yet full of love. “I never stopped loving you,” he had whispered. “Me either.” She’d responded.]</p>
<p>I think I’m going to be okay.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>xiv<br/>
It’s been six months since Sabrina died. Life has slowly morphed into a new type of normal. It will never be the same without Sabrina, that’s true. If only she were here to see how much we’ve changed. </p>
<p>Her friends put hours of work into conveying Sabrina’s legacy. Harvey draws, Roz scripts, and Theo and Robin speak, sharing tales of their adventures and the good times they had. </p>
<p>Aunt Zee has become softer. She’s begun lectures at the academy, lessons about all of Sabrina’s accomplishments. She makes sure no one will forget her niece’s sacrifice to keep the world safe. </p>
<p>Aunt Hilda drops by Baxter High, participating in a Bake Sale to raise money for the programs implemented by student council president Roz (and her new co-president Theo, in the wake of Brina’s passing). Her baked goods are loved by all. </p>
<p>I’ve finally learned how to carry on — with my family and Prudence by my side, supporting me along the way.</p>
<p>And Cousin, if you’re out there, wherever you are: I love you. I’ll see you again some day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahh!! the lack of prubrose/pambrose in s4 made me sad so i wrote this fic to make up for it ! prudence is a little out-of-character, i'll admit, but the caos ending was so upsetting i think we deserve a little prudence/ambrose happy ending.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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